


Honey Whiskey and Brimstone Flowers

by Pebzii



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Father daughter i think yes, Gen, I wish you luck, Multi, Other, oh boy this'll be fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 05:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16591379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pebzii/pseuds/Pebzii
Summary: A few members of the Van Der Linde Gang were raised by Dutch and Hosea themselves, this being John and Arthur. They were easy to raise; loyal, obedient, and thankful.When they stumble across a young O'Driscoll with a tongue like fire, though, they discover their work is cut out for them.





	1. New Faces

**Author's Note:**

> This is also my first work on here... let's see how it goes!

The world was on fire, it seemed. Well, it kinda was, but at the same time it wasn't. Confusing, really. The barn was on fire and so was the house, but the world itself? No. That would just mean she died some where in between then and now, and she was sent to hell. She didn't believe she would be sent to hell, honestly. Maybe her daddy, but not her herself. She was a sweet girl, they said. The sweetheart of the O'Driscolls. The only thing that kept people sane.

Yet, as she huddled behind a bush, watching the men watch their horrible creation eat the place she had been hidden at, the young girl didn't feel so sweet any more. She felt angry. Seriously pissed off. She felt like she needed to avenge the lives that were lost, and, when she made "eye contact" (can you really call it that?) with a deceased man, she felt bile rise in the back of her throat. His eyes... so dull, glossed over. Blood stained his cheek where he had hacked it up from getting shot, and she quickly noticed the growing puddle of blood on the hard, frosted ground. It hadn't snowed yet, but it was cold, and she grew increasingly aware of it despite the warmth the fire was providing. She was too far away to feel it properly... but she could always get closer. 

Her lips twitched as she reached for a small, flexible stick, never once taking her eyes off of the men. They were horrible. They had killed men in cold blood, burnt down a house, and for what? Their own sick enjoyment, she decided. They were sick and twisted and deserved to die. Her fingers finally closed around the stick and she rose from her hiding place, blue eyes still locked onto the men. She felt hatred and fear; both of which were pumping adrenaline into her body, making her forget all about the wound on her shoulder from a stray bullet she had received during the shoot out. She took cautious steps around the bush, swallowing wettly. It was like she wasn't in control of her body, like she wasn't really there. That she was watching a young girl get ready to attack some imposters that would kill her in seconds. Part of her was screaming at her to stop. The other part of her was letting her body pick up speed, her steps light and careful, but still fast moving. That part of her allowed her to lift her arm, the muscles beneath her skin tensing as she drew closer to her prey. 

The part that let her swing at one of the legs of the men. 

With perfection, she bounced back, dropping her stick, and quickly moving out of arm's reach as the man squealed some, flinching away from his tiny tormentor and reaching to rub the spot the harmless, but still pain inflicting stick had landed, spinning around to glare at the girl with hatred. 

"You lil' brat-! C'mere!" He bellowed, lunging forward. He was met with hands across his chest, forcing him back. 

"Micah!" A more authentic voice scolded as he pushed the other away from the girl, who had squeaked and was immediately trying to make her get away. The man eyed her and sighed slightly, slouching before waving his hand to another, gesturing. "Go get her, Arthur." He sounded displeased and the youngster found herself putting on more speed in her fleeing. 

It was in vain, however, considering she wasn't much faster than the man called Arthur, who descended upon her in seconds, hooking one arm around her torso and the other behind her knees, swooping her up into his arms bridal style. 

"Let me go!" She spat, reaching with a hand to swat her foe in the face. He only grunted, lurching his head back to try and avoid the attack, shifting her so her feet dragged across the ground and her arms were pinned to her chest. She screamed, writhing and desperately trying to escape her holder, spitting out curses and threats like a mad cat. 

"Would ya stoppit!? You're makin' this harder-" He was cut off by her leering back, her head trying to hit his nose as he took steps back to his companions. "-Than it has to be!" He finished, and the girl squealed again. Her body ached and she found it difficult to fight any more. The closer to the other three men they grew, the more frantic (and tired) she became. Until she was left, somewhat limp in Arthur's arms, panting and glaring. 

"Miss, we aren't going to hurt-" The clear leader of the group tried to speak before Arthur dumped her on the ground, crossing his arms and blocking her attempts to crawl away. 

"We aren't going to hurt you, so please, calm down," The man finished, crouching onto her level. She reeled backwards, crab walking some before colliding with Arthur's legs. She gave up then and there, panting as she glared at him. 

"I know which you are," She pointed an accusing finger at him as the realization hit her. This was the man that her father hated oh so much. The man that her father had told her to stay away from because he was so horrible. Killed her uncle, he said. "You're Dutch Van Der Linde! My daddy's gonna find you and he's gonna kill you! You're damned! DAMNED!" She began to shout, throwing her head back before the wind was knocked out of her by a swift, light, but effective, kick to her back. 

"That's enough outta you," Arthur growled, and, when she looked up, she was met with a harsh glare. One that was enough to make her shrink some. She clamped her mouth shut, turning back to Dutch, who held only a patient look on his face. 

"What's your name, little one?" He asked, and she could hear the growing hatred in his voice. Well, she had just assaulted one of his men. So, yeah, she couldn't really blame him.

"Maeflower. Maeflower O'Driscoll," Her voice was soft, dying out with the ever growing exhaustion. She was blinking more and more, the adrenaline finally starting to wear off as she studied the men. Dutch stood back to his full height, and she watched as he looked around at each of his men before nodding, turning back to her.

"How would you like to come with us for tonight?" He offered, and Mae couldn't resist the urge to nod, the thought of being taken somewhere safer causing her to feel relaxed... safe. Huh. Interesting.

"Dutch, we already have an O'Driscoll! We don't need ano-" Arthur tried to interject. 

"She is just a little girl, Arthur. Have some faith! She'll be riding and sleeping with you," Dutch swiftly handed out a punishment to the grumpy man, prompting a snicker from another.

"Cannit, Bill," Arthur growled as he swooped down to pick Mae up. She didn't object, squeaking a little in fact, before allowing herself to be half carried, a yawn escaping her as he shuffled her over to his horse, a simple paint. He muttered curses under his breath, letting her stand still for a bit while he hoisted himself up onto the horse, sliding back a bit before leaning down to pick Mae up and set her in front of him. She leaned back against him, pleased by the warmth and shelter from the nipping wind he provided. If he minded, he didn't say anything, instead simply urging his horse into a gallop after the other three. 

It was a combination of listening to the clopping of hooves, the warmth of Arthur, and the rocking from the galloping that caused her body to grow limp, her eyes closing, as she was lured into slumber.


	2. The Camp

Mae woke up to Arthur dropping her on his cot in his tent. Pain flooded her system, and she cried out with a whine, scooting back from him and moving to gingerly touch her shoulder. She winced and hissed a bit when she laid her hand across it, pulling back to eye the blood that was seeping through her clothing, worry on her face. She groaned, feeling light headed. "Sorry," She heard Arthur grunt, and when she turned to look at him, there was a hint of worry in his gaze. Though, it was soon replaced with the usual scowl as he turned away from her, stalking away to disappear into the confines of the camp, leaving her alone in his tent. She whined softly, listening to the stirrings of the area, growing increasingly aware that there were multiple people, sleeping. How many were there...? She grew more and more uneasy. 

She shifted to peer around her new quarters, eyeing the photos. A dog, Arthur with Dutch and some other man... it seemed to be his personal little home. She sniffed slightly, pulling her knees to her chest and peeling back her shirt to look at her wound. It was just a graze from a bullet, there was no hole and no bullet, but she nearly vomited at the sight of her own meat, bone slightly apparent. Blood was caked around the wound and it was still pulsing; the stench was horrible and she noticed a white... ooze. She half way wanted to pass out. 

"Don't touch it, ya idiot. Unless you're doctor or want to make it worse," She looked back at her current "savior," eyeing the medical supplies he had in his hands. She squinted at the glass bottle with a big word across it, the needle and thread, and the gauges, scooting back as far as the confinement would allow her. 

"What're you doing?" She asked, voice barely above a whisper as he settled himself on the edge of the cot, setting the supplies somewhat between them. 

"Saving your life," He growled, shooting her glare as he readied the needle and thread. He gestured her to come closer, pouring the liquid from the glass bottle onto a napkin of sorts. She complied, holding back a cry of pain when he wiped the wound. She exhaled sharply, eyeing the wound as it fizzled up and burnt, the infection coming out. He wiped it again, this time to get the stuff off, before taking the needle and thread. 

"This is gonna hurt," He warned, and, with that, pricked her skin. She flinched, though didn't make a single peep, biting her lower lip instead in pain, letting him do his thing. He didn't speak or anything; just did his work. When he was finished there, he placed the gauge across it, taping it down with surgical tape before pulling back. He observed his sloppy work before nodding, disappearing to return to the stuff where they belonged and then reappearing to turn off the lamp. 

"Good night," Mae whispered, tentatively, earning only a grunt from the grumpy man as he sprawled out on the ground next to the cot. She peered at him before curling on the bed thingie, making sure to be mindful of her wound, and fell asleep on the bed. 

\---

"What do you mean I have to take care of her!?" Arthur's annoyed voice disturbed Mae and she shifted a bit, rolling over a bit to peer in the direction of a tent with an angry Arthur yelling at an impatient Dutch. 

"I am too busy taking care of the family! Surely you can take care of one simple girl!" Dutch spat back, voice deep and laced with venom. 

"I wasn't the one that brought her back- you know what? You've changed, Dutch. You're treating me like a damn mule-!"

"I'm treating you like a son! Now, please, Arthur, just take of her!" Dutch's words seemed to put an end to the argument, because Arthur said nothing more for a short bit. He shook his head, turning towards his tent where Mae was now sitting up, worriedly.

"Dammit," Was all he could spit, lifting his eyes to spot Mae. She immediately averted her gaze from him as he approached her, shaking his head some. "Sorry you had to hear that." He apologized. Mae couldn't tell if it was sincere or not.

"If you don't want me here, I'll go," She stated, avoiding looking at him. "Didn't want to come here in the first place." She added, hardening her voice.

"Now, now. No need to talk like that," Arthur snorted, an almost amused tone entering his voice. "You're just a kid... guess you're camping with me, then." He sighed, gently nudging her some. She hissed at him, jerking away and glaring. He glared right back, causing Mae to flinch away. He had a harsh glare... man, he could stare his way through a wall if he tried hard enough. 

Mae moved to get up from the cot, earning a questioning look from Arthur as he moved out of her way. She could feel him staring at her as she shuffled on out, looking around. She retreated back to his little abode, an anxious look on her face. 

"Don't be nervous. The only one that bites is Bill," Arthur encouraged slightly, and Mae frowned at him. She jutted her chin out, puffing her chest.

"He don't scare me!" She growled, narrowing her eyes. Arthur chuckled slightly, shaking his head before looking to where the horses resided. 

"How about you and me go look at the horses, huh?" He offered, and Mae grew excited. She loved horses! She was always taking care of them when she could! She grinned widely, nodding eagerly as she followed after Arthur to the horses. He stopped at his, uttering some praising words as he pet the paint.

"This here is Blizzard," He introduced the two, moving aside so Mae could reach up with her good arm and pet the stallion's neck. She wrinkled her nose slightly, peering at Arthur.

"Why Blizzard? He isn't white," She asked, looking back at the horse, who nickered and nudged her some, nosing for treats.

"I found 'im in a blizzard, that's why," Arthur explained, giving her a slice of an apple to feed Blizzard with. She willingly took it, holding her hand out flat so the horse could take the apple without accidentally bitting her. The horse's warm tongue brushed against her hand as he licked it, clearing her palm of apple juices and salt both. He flicked his ears, seemingly studying her before snorting, moving away to go and graze with the other horses. She watched him go, blinking.

"I like him," She mumbled, rubbing her bad arm. Arthur nodded, giving off a gentle sigh as he turned to guide the girl back into the safe confinements of the camp.

"He's a good horse- Hey! O'Driscoll!" He cut himself off with a slight sneer, his gaze directed at a nervous man, who blinked at him. Mae felt a prickle of annoyance go up her spine and she spun around, glaring at Arthur.

"What's wrong with being an O'Driscoll?" She asked, cutting off the nervous male, who was about to object about being an O'Driscoll. She watched Arthur tense, glaring at him until he started to glare back.

"Nothin', I guess," He grumbled, seemingly at a loss for words. Mae gave a satisfied huff, moving to explore on her own now, leaving Arthur to attend to whatever it was that Arthur did. 

And, as she walked away, Arthur found himself wondering just how it was a little girl had a bark far worse than his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this one up a little too quickly for my own good  
> It's a slow chapter and a little rushly written, but! Fear not! The next chapter will be a bit more action packed! C:


	3. O'Driscoll? Who?

"Ouch."

Mae grunted slightly as she pulled back on the reins of Blizzard, eyeing Arthur as he disappeared into the overgrowth. It had been a couple weeks since she had joined the Van Der Linde gang, mostly against her will. A couple weeks since she had been shot in the shoulder, and had given it time to heal. Turns out, Arthur wasn't as bad as a doctor as Mae had originally thought, and, as she watched the other return with the rabbit slung over his shoulder, she couldn't help but hold a look of gratitude.

"Ya killed it?" She sniffed slightly, and Arthur lifted his head slightly in a light nod, attaching the rabbit to the saddle. 

"Yup." He responded. Mae scooted forward in the saddle a bit, letting Arthur settle on it behind her and take the reins from her hands, his gaze never changing.

"Are ya gonna let me shoot?" She asked, voice slightly soft.

"Nope." Mae frowned, allowing her shoulders to fall forward a bit in disappointment. This was the third time today she had asked to shoot, and the third time today she had been told no. She was honestly getting tired of this and was about to take things into her own hands. Stubborn, she was. Spoiled. She was so used to getting what she wanted when she wanted that Arthur's strict denial of her shooting anything was a bit of a shock to her.

However, Mae said nothing as Arthur urged Blizzard into a trot, her body tensing as she used her arms to push herself some what out of the saddle, stretching. She yawned, blue eyes scanning the familiar terrain of a kind of mountain area. The base of it. She had a coat around her shoulders, luckily, so the cold didn't bother her much. They were hunting today; yesterday he had taken her fishing, which didn't last long thanks to her still, pretty recent wound. She had enjoyed it while it did last, though, and while she wasn't getting to hunt, Mae found herself enjoying the stillness of the hunt. The quiet. Arthur didn't talk much to her anyways. Not since she had called him out on the O'Driscolls insults he was pulling. 

"Are ya ever gonna let me shoot anything?" She pondered aloud for him, though he said nothing. Her scowl deepened and she found herself glaring on ahead of the path, scanning somewhat for more game. Gosh, he was so rude. Didn't even answer her! The man could sweet talk his way out of trouble, she had learnt, but when it was just them? It was like she was riding with a darn statue! How did she, Colm O'Driscoll's accident of a daughter, get tangled up with Dutch? And not even stuck with Dutch himself! No, she got stuck with his dog! 

Well, at least there was another O'Driscoll at the camp she could relate too, though he seemed bent that he wasn't an O'Driscoll and instead a Van Der Linde. To each his own, she supposed. Kieran, was his name. He was a sweet guy; took care of the horses when nobody else did. She was thankful for his existence; horses gotta be cared for. 

On top of meeting Kieran, Mae had found herself a friend in the Marston boy, Jack. He was friendly enough and enjoyed playing with her, so it was only natural they became friends. He made her a flower necklace once, and if it hadn't of died on her, she would've willingly worn until the ends of her days. Kinda like a trophy, a wreath. She had asked if she could go hunting with Arthur today to see if she could find something for Jack, in which she undoubtedly forgot about it, and got distracted instead with the idea of shooting. Remembering now the reason she was out here for, Mae lifted her head slightly, searching for something, until she noticed something was off. 

Arthur was tense, his body unnaturally rigid as he pulled Blizzard to a halt. She looked up at Arthur before looking ahead, seeing a gaggle of men, blocking a bridge ahead of them. One was smoking a cigarette, and, with the appearance of the two, dropped it, allowing a sneer to spread across his narrow, almost fox like face. 

"O'Driscolls own this bridge. Move along," he taunted, hazel eyes locked onto the two. Arthur grunted and shifted, gently pulling himself off of his saddle and stepping in front of Blizzard, leaving Mae to take the reins in her hands. She stared at the O'Driscoll, eyes wide. Is this what they did? Block roads?

"Hey, boss... ain't that her?" Another man spoke up, peering at Mae. She swallowed wettly, tensing as the place seemed to grow still. She briefly glanced at Arthur, taking note of his tense stance.

"Yeah... that looks like her..." Fox-face spoke up, taking a step forward. "Hand her over." He growled, glaring directly at Arthur.

"No can do, fellas. She's part of our gang now," Arthur was quick to respond, his hand reaching for his pistol. "She don't belong to you now." He finished, narrowing his eyes. 

"Why you little- open fire, boys!" 

"Git going, boy!" Arthur flailed a hand at Blizzard and Mae, bullets whizzing past him as he immediately ducked behind cover. Mae held on tight as the paint spun on his heel, fleeing into a random direction, away from the spray of bullets. Her eyes were wide, body frozen with terror. She only realized they were racing through a forest when branches started to snag at her, pulling her back as Blizzard blindly fled. Pain flooded her senses, and she leaned forward as far as possible, trying to use Blizzard's neck as protection, but to no avail. A branch whacked her in the face, throwing her completely off balance, and before she knew it, she was colliding with ground. 

The world was spinning now, and she was lurched into a world of jagged bumps, her body rag dolling down a hill as she rolled. For a second, Mae was unsure if she was gonna make it out alive, trying to curl up to protect her head before her descend into "madness" was cut short by a log. She yelped, body lurching up and over the log. Thankfully, she was on flat ground, and she didn't continue to roll any more.

Mae groaned, laying on the ground and staring at the sky, body aching with black threatening to take over her vision. She squinted, listening despite the dull ringing in her ears. She couldn't hear Blizzard... and the gunshots were distant. She sat up, wincing and whining, body scraped and cut to pieces. She honestly wouldn't be surprised if she broke something. She gave herself a brief look over, shaking her head slightly and attempting to stand, stumbling a bit. Rubbing her arms, the lost girl would look around, eyeing the snowflake that drifted past her gaze. The more she looked around, the more she realized that it was snowing. She needed shelter, or warmth or something. That much she knew, but there was something gnawing at her that caused her more paranoia than anything else. 

She was alone.


	4. Staying Alive

The world was white, cold, and miserable. Mae was freezing, huddled only in the warmth that her current coat provided her, feet dragging as she hauled herself forward. She was retreating back to the little shelter she had... "built." Really, it was just a narrow space between two rocks with a branch above it. Otherwise, it was barren, and very clearly didn't provide much more comfort from the wind. She crawled into it, watching the snow fall outside, lips blue and figure shivering.

It had been two days since she had lost Blizzard. She had wandered for a bit in the direction she thought was home, though she quickly realized she had a terrible sense of direction and only found herself more lost than before. Snow eventually started to fall from the sky, and soon, Mae was surrounded in a wintery hell. There was no sign of Arthur or his gaggle of a gang, and Mae was beginning to lose hope of ever being found. She was hungry and thirsty, exhausted beyond belief. 

She was gonna die out here. 

Sneezing, the young girl would shift a bit in her hut, still shaking violently as she stared ahead outside. If there was a God, she was praying to Him for help, hoping that maybe, just maybe, whatever sins she had committed would be forgotten and she would get the help she so desired. Weariness settled on her bones and soon, the youngster was passed out again, shivering in the comfort of her current shelter.

\---

The next morning, Mae set out to do something about the hunger issue, pleased to discover that the snow storm was beginning to slow itself down and keep at a steady, slow falling of flakes. The snow was high, nearly reaching to her waist, but Mae decided to do her best to ignore it, instead wading through it and panting. Her breath came out in misty air, her arms held up slightly so she could waddle through the snow, scanning the bushes for some sort of berry, and she soon found it.

Hurrying over, Mae would gloss over the dark, purplish colored berry, grinning widely before picking some and shoving them into her mouth, shuddering at the sour taste it left, but thankful she was getting at least SOMETHING into her belly. She feasted on those berries, eating many and picking few, before turning around to step in her previously made tracks to get back to her shelter. She absently took note of her surroundings, blue eyes scanning the snowy terrain.

Momentarily, she paused to glance in the direction of a recently made track that cross across her original one, eyeing it as it led deeper into the forest. She frowned slightly, gripping the berries in her hand a little tighter, before following after it, stepping in the tracks the creature had left her. Curious, really. She hadn't ever seen tracks like these before, but, then again, she hadn't ever been out and about in this type of weather before now. Her fingers ached, her body quivered; she was freezing to death, but was too young and dumb to realize it.

The young girl yelped when she stumbled across a stream, nearly toppling into it, but catching herself before she did so. She hissed, regarding the frigid liquid with a glare. She glanced around, eyes catching on the sight of a few deer startling with her presence and fleeing into the brush. Their fluffy, white tails flashed surrender at her, the bleeting and snorting of them causing her to blink a little. She was tempted to follow after them, but didn't take too well on the idea of freezing herself with a simple mistake. So, instead, the cautious girl would turn tail and begin to trek her way back to her shelter, sniffling a bit as she kept from squishing her current source of berries.

By the time she got back, she was panting heavily, her stomach churning and threatening to spill whatever contents she had. She couldn't tell if it was from exhaustion or the berries themselves, but she did know she regretted not collecting any water from the stream. She was parched, throat dry, and legs feeling like lead as she staggered, falling into the shelter. She rolled her head to the side, panting and groaning in a miserable tone, shivering violently. She glanced at the sky, just now noticing how dark it was getting, and pulled her legs to her chest. She was gonna die out here, wasn't she? Gonna die and nobody would find her. Never knew she would go out like this... maybe killed in a gunfight, but not a simple cold. Her gaze grew half lidded and she allowed herself to drift into sleep.

\---

In the days that followed, Mae had discovered that the berries she was eating, was what was making her sicker than a dog, but they hadn't killed her yet, so she was forced to continue eating them, desperate to survive. She popped a few in her mouth, panting as she dragged some brush towards her shelter, face falling. She was trying to build up her hut, as she had discovered a bit ago, when a raccoon raided her, that the local wildlife tended to like whatever she liked, and took berries. She frowned as she forced her muscles to push the brush into place, coughing lightly. 

"Yeah... that'll show you," She scoffed, grinning a bit as she weaved the branches in out of place. She hesitated, however, a familiar voice reaching her ears. One that carelessly whispered her name, and she craned her neck to listen. She took a stumbling step towards the voice, eyes wide.

"ARTHUR!" She shouted, adrenaline starting to pump through her veins as she bounded over the snow, ignoring the churning of her stomach. Was this it? Was she gonna be rescued? Was she finally gonna get out of here and go back to the comfort of camp? She hoped so, and she pushed her legs faster, heading in the direction she heard the voice.

She stumbled to a stop, however, when she came across a solid wall of cliff, confusion littering her gaze. Had she.. made a wrong turn? Surely not? She had no clue... she hoped she hadn't! What if she had? She spun around in a circle, gagging as she tried to keep the contents of her stomach down, frantic. Surely she wasn't hallucinating, right? Maybe she had finally gone mad. Wait! There! The snap of a twig!

Mae whipped her head around to the brush, peering at it with anxiety, praying it was Arthur. Instead, she was met with a low, doggish growl, and silently, creeping from the shadows, appeared a wolf with fur as black as the night. She backed up, getting ready to bolt, before noticing she as surrounded by similar looking canines, panic seizing her frame. Oh no... oh noo.

"E-easy, puppy," She tried, swallowing as the black wolf advanced on her, flashing his pearly white teeth at her. She swallowed dryly, wondering if now would be a bad time to teach a wolf to sit. She had nothing to arm herself with. Absolutely nothing. She was starting to question if this was where she was gonna die.. most likely. Terror flooded her system as she stumbled back, pressing her spine against the cliff wall, staring the creature in the eye. 

The wolf lunged for her and she put her arm out, letting it latch on and drag her to the ground. She cried out in pain, kicking at the canine and slapping it with her free hand. She tried to pull herself away, and in that moment, her fingers curled around a rock. She grinded her molars, swinging the rock at the wolf's muzzle. It didn't budge, but she kept beating, hitting as hard as she could in the face with her rock, screaming at it to let go. She heard a crack and the wolf yelped, stumbling back with its jaw hanging at an odd angle, whimpering as crimson blood from the both of them stained the earth. She threw her weapon of choice at the wolf, watching it recoil with distaste before it turned tail and fled, the others following suite. Mae herself stood up, gingerly touching her new wound before stumbling off in the direction of her temporary home, face twisted into pain as she held her arm close to her body. 

"Dumb dog," She mumbled as she stumbled, vision blurry and distorted. She shook her head to clear it. She would be fine... just gotta make it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew! So sorry this took literally forever to get out!

**Author's Note:**

> Wheee!!! That was fun! Hope this is satisfactory for some of ya'll


End file.
